DragonKnight (35 page)

         
45
         

G
RAWLIG
D
INNER
P
ARTY

Kale struggled to remain calm as the pressure of the gateway intensified. She tumbled head over heels and marveled that she felt as if she were falling up.

Bardon’s right. This is a rough ride. I hope the minors are all right.

She catapulted out of the gateway, frantically trying to grab something to hold on to. To her relief, she landed facedown on ground padded with thick, tall grass. She lifted her head and saw statuary blended into the bushes by the shadows of night.

Bardon plummeted out of the gateway and landed on top of her.

“Oomph. Ouch!” Too late, she remembered about being quiet.

The “shh” that followed her exclamation did not come from Bardon. He rolled off of her, and she sat up, looking for the source of the shushing sound.

Regidor sat on a stone bench next to a statue of three dragons. Her minor dragons escaped the confines of their pocket-dens and flew about her head, chittering to one another. Once the six little dragons had determined that Kale was not injured and none of them were hurt, they landed on the statue to examine the artwork.

Cold night air raised goose bumps on Kale’s arms. She rubbed her hands over them.

The squire sat, with his hands on his knees, staring up at the turret.

“You were gone long enough,” said Regidor in a low voice. “I became intrigued with the idea of moving the entry by shifting the edges along a guide wire. The process was meticulous but surprisingly speedy once I practiced a bit. I had time to slide the gateway down to a safer level.”

Bardon stood and dusted bits of grass off his clothes. “Thanks, Regidor. I’m sure you saved us a hard landing.” He turned and offered Kale a hand. “Do you know what he’s talking about?” he whispered as he pulled her to her feet.

“I believe the process would be something like slip-stitching in a piece of knitting.”

Bardon adjusted the scabbard that held his sword on his belt. “I still don’t have a clue as to how he did it, but if he is willing to spend more time here, the inside of that passage could use some work.”

Regidor shook his head. “No, I came to realize as I was finishing the move that I might have defaced a national treasure, a site of historical significance. That gateway must have been one of the first ever constructed.”

The meech focused on Kale. “What are you wearing, Kale? That isn’t exactly an appropriate outfit for a rescue.”

The material of her outfit shimmered in the moonlight.

Kale smoothed the fancy fabric over her arms and grimaced at her best friend. “Hello, Regidor, I’m glad to see you, too.”

He grinned and came to give her a hug. His long, strong forelegs embraced her with brotherly affection. The frown on Bardon’s face surprised Kale.

“Why are you looking daggers at me?”
she asked him.

I’m not.

He turned away from Kale and Regidor and looked toward the grawligs’ playground. “They’ve settled down somewhat.”

Regidor gave Kale an extra squeeze and let go of her. “They’ve massed around the food, and their mouths are full. They’re feasting.”

“Not on our friend, I hope,” said Bardon.

“No, they’ve decided to play a game with him. They wrangled for some time over what game and what the rules would be, then decided to eat first. Grawligs are not known for their organizational abilities.”

“Then now would be a good time to rescue Bromptotterpindosset,” said Bardon. “If his captors are busy with food…”

“Right,” said Regidor.

Kale twirled in place, changing her outfit into more serviceable dark green leggings and a brown tunic. Her mother had taught her the twirl technique. In truth the spin was totally unnecessary for the transformation, but Lyll Allerion had a flair for the dramatic that she had passed on to her daughter.

“Besides,” Wizard Lyll had said, “the twirl is invigorating, and you need that rush right before entering your more challenging situations.”

Before her moonbeam cape stopped swaying from the spin, Kale looked at her companions and said, “Anything you need to tell me before we get this rescue underway?”

“You’re a little too enthusiastic, Kale,” said Bardon. “Try to remember we’re in a life-or-death situation.”

Regidor just winked and gestured for them to follow him. They skulked behind a wall made up of stone and almost hidden by vegetation. The minor dragons either rode on Kale or flew beside her. Except Pat. Pat trudged through the grass, kicking up bugs and eating them. Regidor held up a hand for them to stop. He pointed to the other side of the wall.

Kale peeked through the shrubbery wrapped around and over the stones. Most of the grawligs sat or reclined in clusters. Big pots garnered all their attention. They ate cooked meat with their fingers, smacking their lips and squabbling occasionally over the next piece. An untidy stack of bones to the side of the lawn gave evidence that a buck had provided the meal.

A few of the mountain ogres leaned against trees or statues. Statuary seemed to have overrun the place. Several grawligs, who appeared to be some kind of beaten-down, low servants, passed among the others, handing out raw fruits and vegetables.

A very disgruntled tumanhofer sat, bound hand and foot, with his back to a stake. Two sturdy ropes wrapped around his chest and the wooden pole. Another thinner rope secured his neck to the same stake. Two additional ropes looped his neck like leashes and were held by a pair of massive grawligs as if he were a dog.

“We’ve come to rescue you.”
She saw him jerk slightly as her words entered his thoughts.

“Who are you?”

“Kale Allerion of The Bogs, Dragon Keeper and Wizard.”

“Well, I hope you’re a mighty warrior as well. These grawligs are brutes.”

“Squire Bardon and Wizard Regidor are with me. They’re well noted for their fighting skills.”

“Two warriors? There are nearly a hundred grawligs in this encampment. Where’s the guard Sir Dar sent to escort us?”

Kale turned to Bardon.
“Your tumanhofer wants to know where the guard is.”

Protecting the rest of our party.

“Granny Kye and N’Rae?”

And the others. Oh, I didn’t mention the others, did I?

A shout erupted from a group of grawligs. Two of them stood and growled at each other. One threw his fistful of meat down. The other stepped closer and smashed his grease-covered hand into the first grawlig’s face.

Kale just had time to say “uh-oh” before all the grawligs jumped to their feet and began pounding one another.

One of the grawligs holding the mapmaker’s ropes stepped toward the fracas.

“Hey!” yelled the other. “You can’t go. You stay here and watch him.” He thrust a thick finger at Bromptotterpindosset.

“You stay!” The grawlig turned and beat his chest with one fist. “I am Bor-bor clan. I fight Nastrek.” He hurled the end of the rope at the other.

The grawlig grunted when the rope flailed across his face. “I Nastrek clan,” he roared, dropping his rope and lunging at the other grawlig.

“
Very
good time to retrieve our mapmaker,” said Bardon. He and Regidor vaulted over the wall.

Kale stood up and lifted the hood of her cape to cover her head. She whistled the call of a night bird as an alert and commanded, “Dragons, spit in the eye of any grawlig who sees us.”

Regidor and Bardon had been spotted. Five grawligs, who evidently weren’t as determined to defend the honor of their clans, had blocked the warriors in their charge to rescue the tumanhofer.

The minor dragons flew to help. They spit sticky, caustic saliva into the faces of the enemy. When the substance struck an eyeball, the grawlig would double over and howl. Unfortunately, this attracted the attention of those who had not been attacking Bardon and Regidor. These abandoned the brawl between clans and joined the attack on the outsiders. The fray, a few yards away from the captured tumanhofer, grew from five grawligs to ten. As one dropped out, two more took his place. The odds against Regidor and Bardon grew more uneven by the minute.

Kale jumped over the wall and stood perfectly still, giving her moonbeam cape a chance to camouflage her. She then took slow steps, one at a time, until she knelt directly behind the tumanhofer. Using her short sword, she cut through the knots that she could not undo with her fingers.

“Give me a weapon,” the tumanhofer demanded as he rubbed his wrists and stomped his feet. “It’s a good thing those beasts are inept at tying tightly. I’ve still got the use of my limbs.”

Kale pulled a short, heavy sword out of the hollow of her cape. Bromptotterpindosset grabbed it and began swinging as he worked his way from the fringe to the center of the battling circle around Bardon and Regidor.

Rather than join the two warriors and the tumanhofer, Kale chose to keep any more grawligs from joining the conflict. She created a ring of quicksand around the main fight. Four feet across and four feet deep, the mire provided an efficient barricade. The ogres stepped in, sank to their hips and struggled. Eventually, there were enough of the grawligs stuck in the loose, saturated sand that the following brutes just used their trapped comrades as steppingstones. This, of course, enraged the ogres sinking in the sand. They began reaching up to snag those crossing over, pulling them down into the mire.

Kale watched a brawl develop that far outshone the fight inside the ring. Bardon, Regidor, and Bromptotterpindosset incapacitated the last of their attackers and stood at ease, watching the chaos around them. Occasionally, almost by mischance, a grawlig ended up on their island, and they dispatched the poor unfortunate individual with speed.

Bardon called to her. “Kale, did you have a plan for how we’re to get from here to there?”

She shrugged. “Regidor can fly.”

Bardon indicated his short mapmaker. “Neither of us have wings.”

Kale grinned and directed her thoughts to Regidor alone.
“My dear meech friend, shall we help them out?”

“Of course,”
he replied.
“The mapmaker first?”

“Yes.”

The tumanhofer rose off the ground and floated. His eyes grew big, his face turned red, and he began to pump his legs as if he could run from whatever it was that had ahold of him. Kale and Regidor passed him over the heads of the scrapping ogres and set him down. Then they seized Bardon, lifted him higher than they had the tumanhofer, and sailed him quickly through the air to land next to Bromptotterpindosset. Regidor spread his wings and took to the air.

From across the courtyard, a chorus of howls drowned out the snarls and gnashing of teeth in the quicksand ring. A thundering pack of wild grawligs charged through the open space. Kale jumped behind a statue to keep from getting run down by this new band of beasts. The swarm surrounded Bardon and Bromptotterpindosset as they passed by the grawligs stuck in Kale’s mire.

They ran through the courtyard and out the other side, while Kale ran to where Bardon lay on the ground. The squire sat up and shook his head as if trying to clear it. He looked around.

“Where’s the tumanhofer?”

Kale, too, searched the ground around them. She jumped to her feet and looked behind the two statues that were close enough for Bromptotterpindosset to have used for refuge.

“He’s not here.”

“Those ogres took him,” Bardon said as he struggled to his feet.

“Why?”

“Who knows why a grawlig does anything? And you only compound the absurdity when you have grawligs making decisions en masse.”

Kale came back to stand next to Bardon. “Where’s Regidor?”

“He probably flew after them to see where they go.”

“What are we going to do?”

Bardon sighed, picked up his sword, and turned toward the gate. “Follow them.”

         
46
         

A F
RIENDLIER
D
INNER

Bardon asked Ardeo, Kale’s light dragon, to lead the way. He flew close to the ground, and the glow of his skin gave Bardon enough light to see the tracks of the mob that had stolen Bromptotterpindosset. The huge grawligs had beaten a wide path through the underbrush. Kale and Bardon sped after them, slowing only when they came to cliff-like inclines. Apparently, the mountain ogres with their tough hides just slid down these rocky slopes.

Bardon heard the beat of Regidor’s wings and put a hand on Kale’s arm to stop her. In a moment, the meech dragon landed in front of them, immediately folding his wings and retracting them under his cape. The minor dragons perched on Kale and Bardon.

“Well,” said Kale when Regidor didn’t speak, “what did you find out?”

The meech dragon looked pointedly at Bardon’s hold of Kale’s arm. The squire frowned and stepped down the path a few feet.

Kale looked from one male friend to the other. Bardon thought she would make some comment, but she surprised him by staying focused on the rescue.

“Where is the tumanhofer?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, they have taken him back into the warrens.” Regidor clapped his forefeet together, producing a table, chairs, food, and drink. “Shall we? I’m sure you’re as hungry as I am, and we have time to make plans over a succulent meal.”

Fried fish, a large loaf of dark bread, corn, pnard potatoes, and crisp salad greens lured them all to the table. Regidor hurried to pull a chair out for Kale. Bardon stopped to stare.

Now, why did he do that? Of course, I would have done the same in a more formal setting. It’s not as if I’m unaware of how to treat a lady.

Kale flashed a smile at Regidor and then frowned at Bardon. “Aren’t you coming?”

Bardon sat down without saying a word.

Regidor bowed his head, as did Kale. The squire followed suit a second and a half later.

The meech dragon’s low voice rumbled his petition. “Wulder, we acknowledge Your sovereignty, we thank You for our meal, and we ask that You strengthen our friendships, even making them new. By Your might and grace, may all things be done.”

Just as he opened his eyes, Bardon caught a look passing between Kale and Regidor.

What is going on between those two? And what did Regidor mean by making our friendships new? Should I ask?

No! We’re here to rescue Bromptotterpindosset. We’re here to rescue the knights.

The squire knew the meech dragon would rather report on his own time, but he was tired of the delays and all the nonsense that seemed to be interfering with their purpose. “Regidor, what did you find out as you followed the grawligs?”

Regidor wrinkled his nose in distaste but complied with Bardon’s request for information. “The band that most recently abducted Bromptotterpindosset were the Gar-hoo. And, they were the ones who abducted him from our camp. The Bor-bor then ambushed the Gar-hoo and stole their prize. The Bor-bor then invited the Nastrek to join in a celebration. To them, successfully grabbing the Gar-hoos’ loot is of great consequence. Also, having in their possession an otherlander increases their prestige, so of course they wanted the Nastrek to be witness to their triumph.

“As long as the clans do not lose interest, Bromptotterpindosset is fairly safe from becoming a meal. These grawligs like to play with their food and don’t actually cook them until the novelty has worn off and they have become bored.”

Kale had buttered thick slabs of bread and placed them on each plate. Now she poured a cool, clear, red juice into tall goblets and passed them to her companions.

“Thank you,” said Regidor.

“Thank you,” echoed Bardon and tried not to choke on the bite halfway down his throat.

What is this? Some kind of contest? My manners are just as polished as the manners of a meech dragon from a swamp!

He bit into the fish and found it salty, crunchy, and delicious. A savory sauce covered the pnard potatoes. A light dressing glistened on the salad greens and tasted of delectable herbs with a hint of garlic. The fragrance alone soothed Bardon’s frazzled nerves. He soon forgot his irritation over Regidor’s odd behavior toward Kale, and he ate heartily.

When they each leaned back in their chairs, totally satisfied, Regidor clapped his forefeet, and the whole dinner, dirty dishes, table, and all disappeared. Only the chairs remained.

Bardon looked askance at his friend. “I only had rudimentary wizardry lessons under old Fen, but it seems to me that all things must be created from existing things. That a wizard cannot pull objects out of thin air.”

Kale’s expression took on the look of a mentor displeased with her pupil. “Now that your stomach is full you think to question where the food came from?” She giggled. “Regidor doesn’t pull them out of thin air, but out of well-stocked hollows. Regidor is more a master of dramatic display than most of us. Librettowit says he has a ‘flair’ for the art of wizardry that hasn’t been seen in any wizard for eons.”

Bardon smiled. “And Fenworth says?”

“Harrumph!” imitated the two ex-apprentices at the same time.

They laughed.

We have so much in common, the three of us. Not only the crazy old wizard, but also the lack of parents and the desire to follow Wulder.
He caught himself before he let his thoughts stray further down such a philosophical path. They had work to do.

“We need to rest,” said Bardon, “then find Bromptotterpindosset, send him on his way, and tackle the problem of how to wake up the knights.”

“You left out an important step,” Kale said as they all stood. She paused and raised her eyebrows. “Removing your tumanhofer from the midst of his captors.”

“Ah yes, that should be entertaining,” said Regidor. He snapped his fingers, and the chairs they had been sitting on folded in on themselves and disappeared.

They strolled through the moonlight among the jagged rocks toward a part of the warren Regidor thought might be unoccupied. Ardeo flew in front of them, close to the ground, illuminating the shadows in their path. The other minor dragons sometimes flew and sometimes perched on the three travelers.

“We’ll look this dirt shelter over carefully,” explained Bardon to Kale. “The last supposedly unpopulated burrow we explored housed two cave dragons. One was a small snake dragon, and the other, a massive two-headed snake dragon.”

The minor dragons set up a hullabaloo, chittering, scolding, and chirping interspersed with shrill whistles.

“What’s that all about?” asked Bardon.

“They’re expressing their opinions of what they call degenerate dragons. They consider snake dragons to be very low creatures, indeed.”

“Which,” said Regidor, “raises the question of why some dragons behave more like animals and some like upstanding citizens of the high races.”

“Which,” said Bardon, “raises the question of why some citizens of the high races behave more like animals, never fulfilling their potential for nobility.”

Kale clamped her hands over her ears. “Stop! I get my fill of philosophical debates when Wizard Cam comes to visit. He and Librettowit can discuss the vagaries of civilization until they are both hoarse from talking.”

Bardon laughed. “They had those kinds of deliberations at The Hall, but Sir Dar discouraged them at Castle Pelacce.”

“Why?” asked Kale.

“He said there came a time when words lost their ability to accomplish change and just became noises in the air.”

“So he didn’t believe people should indulge in discussions?”

“Oh no,” Bardon shook his head. “He encouraged discussions until they became futile. He used the example of describing an egg. There are only so many words you can use to describe an egg, and after those have been used in every possible combination, the smarter activity is to eat the egg rather than describe it.”

When they reached the burrow Regidor had spotted, they found vegetation grown up around its entrance and no sign of anyone having gone in or out for several seasons at least. Both Regidor and Kale used their minds to see if they could detect life within the enclosure. They found nothing larger than a druddum, and those cave dwellers never posed problems other than occasionally startling an explorer by appearing suddenly.

The troop settled in, using blankets Regidor and Kale had in their hollows. Kale volunteered to take the first watch.

Regidor uncorked his elaborate bottle. “Gilda will keep you company. She’s safe here and will enjoy the visit.”

Kale brightened at the prospect. She smiled at Bardon and explained. “Gilda and I often visit when Regidor stays at Fenworth’s castle.”

Their voices—Kale’s sweet and musical, Gilda’s low and breathy—lulled Bardon into a restful slumber.